Every time they finished, they threw money at me like I was a common whore. I was living worse than death, surviving only for my "sick" brother.
The punchline? All of this because Hudson wanted to punish me for "stealing" the identity of his beloved Eliana.
Nausea roiled in my stomach. I turned to leave.
Crash.
A force slammed into me from behind. My forehead cracked against the marble, sparking stars in my vision.
"Ow! My arm!"
Eliana clutched her elbow, screaming. While the others rushed over, she lifted her foot. Her stiletto heel came down hard on my hand.
She ground it in, twisting.
Pain exploded up my arm. Blood pooled on the white tiles.
Before I could move, a heavy boot slammed into my chest.
Hudson.
He kicked me backward, face twisted in disgust. He didn't recognize me—only saw a clumsy servant who'd hurt his precious Eliana.
"How does a Michelin-starred restaurant let trash like this inside?" he roared. "This filthy lowlife got my sister's shoes dirty!"
The manager came running, bowing and scraping, apologizing profusely for my existence.